A pop and hiss drew Garilos’ attention back to the fire burning in the fireplace. Garilos was glad to be indoors next to the fire. Outside a cold front had moved in bringing a freezing rain and sleet with it. The wind whipped the rain into stinging needles of ice and threw it around trees and rocks at anyone foolish enough to believe they could hide from the storm’s malice. The only good to come from the storm was that it cleared Valgarde of the smell of burning dung, if only for a short time.
Rearranging the burning logs with an iron poker, Garilos stared absentmindedly at the dancing flames. Although there were others in the inn, he was the only one sitting near the fireplace. There was plenty of room in front of the large fireplace. A handful of rough-hewn chairs formed a semi-circle in front of it, one of which had been pulled close to the fireplace and was now occupied by Garilos. Another chair was taken over by his gear and pack.
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Garilos crouched down behind a clump of bushes, looking down upon the worgen. With a look of disdain, he spit upon the ground. “Disgusting creatures,” he muttered to himself as he watched the worgen pace about their camp.
From his vantage point, he could see the scattered huts and fire pits of the small camp. Garilos carefully memorized the location of every hut, boulder, and tree in the camp, creating a map in his head which he rotated and examined as he plotted his course of action. He also made a note of the routes of the worgen guards patrolling the perimeter of the camp.
If any in the village were to look to where he was hidden, they would see nothing but shadows within shadows. Even with the moon out tonight, it would be difficult for any to see Garilos.
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(( This occurs after A Short Letter To Megaly and before Do They Have Nightmares? over at Garilos’ Blog ))
The acrid smell of burning dung logs drifted through the air in Valgarde. The black rock for fires had run low and until the supply ships arrived it was more tightly rationed than the booze. The stables had taken to rolling the soiled straw into logs and using it for the watch fires around the keep. Though the vile things weren’t burnt indoors, even having them near the keep wrapped the entire area in stench.
Megaly hadn’t wanted to come back here. As soon as the blizzard of two weeks past had ended she’d set out searching for Garilos. She’d followed his trail through several locations, never staying for long in any of them. Just long enough to determine which way he’d gone, toward what town. She seemed forever behind him with no way of catching up. In frustration she’d returned to Valgarde with the intention of catching the next ship back to Stormwind.
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Megaly,
My confusion grows. I learned Ursoc has been resurrected but in a corrupted form! I spoke to the son and daughter of Ursoc. Orsonn said his father was corrupted by the same evil which corrupted Vordrassil.
I don’t know what to do. When I lived among the Night Elves of Ashenvale, they told me of Ursoc and his brother Ursol fighting side by side with Cenarius against the Burning Legion. Both Latissimus and Levatorani told me they witnessed their fall to the Burning Legion. Do I dare tell them Ursoc has been resurrected? That he is corrupted?
Are even the Ancients turning against us?
With love,
Garilos.
The following appears to have been written at a later time.
I’ve lost all hope. I’ve been asked to kill Ursoc.
The hastily scribbled writing below appears to have been written after the above writing.
What is this old god Ursoc speaks of, Yogg-Saron? Can its evil corrupt even Ancients such as Ursoc?
Why does the druid stare past me as I tell her I have slain Ursoc as she had asked?
(( Originally posted on Garilos’ Blog as “A Short Letter to Megaly”. ))
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